


homo arigato mr roboto

by noahfronsenburg



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Biting, Choking, Coming In Pants, Dom/sub Undertones, Face-Fucking, Hair-pulling, Improper Use Of Higher Education, M/M, May/December Relationship, Mecha Au, Power Dynamics, Self-Indulgent Drivel, Snowballing, Topping from the Bottom, no betas we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 13:42:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18335474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noahfronsenburg/pseuds/noahfronsenburg
Summary: There was absolutely no room there except for him to kneel.





	homo arigato mr roboto

**Author's Note:**

> mogmamittens named this
> 
> me @ myself: is it TRUE is it HELPFUL is it INSPIRING is it NECESSARY is it KIND? no? but is it HORNY? yes it's horny. is it in character? absolutely not. but they sure did give me a mecha au with gaius as alphinaud's commanding officer.
> 
> iv'e never seen a mecha anime or manga in my life. unless you count zoids, but i was 5.
> 
> this fic is dedicated to mr cruise chaser, who i saw at ilvl in savage under 7% no less than four different times, and who haunts my nightmares. fuck you, you stupid fucking airplane man. fuck you. _fuck you._

The real secrets about running a mecha team that nobody ever liked to talk about at any of the filmed press conferences people occasionally put out about Your Future Career As A Mechania Pilot was that keeping multiple building-sized robots functional after they got the ever-loving daylights pounded out of them by other building-sized robots cost an almost absurd amount of money. An incomprehensible amount of cash. The kind of cash that you needed multiple federal grants to fund on top of private donors, which meant that if you were going to be the commander of one of the biggest-name mech teams in Eorzea, you were going to need more money than god, and you had better be willing to go sit through interminable numbers of official meetings to get those donations.

Make sure your ass was up to the number of hours it would be spending planted in shitty conference room seats while you pretended to look politely interested in investor demands, basically. And drink more coffee than was probably entirely good for your heart.

Gaius had started to get a headache around investor meeting hour #4, when he’d had to explain, in small words, why, no, they could not swap out the Cruise Chaser plating for something more cost-effective, because that would _get his fucking pilots killed_ , without losing his temper. He had managed it. Somehow. But even the thought of sending Alphinaud and Alisaie out into real combat with anything less than the best had made him see red, because that was what killed pilots.

It was what had killed Mid, all those years ago.

So maybe he’d had more coffee than he strictly needed. Or even should have had. Because it was nearing two in the morning and he was nothing like tired, and haunting the halls of HQ was not in his job description. In his job description was going home and passing out for three hours facedown in bed and then coming back to work at 5.

When he finally managed to convince himself to actually _go home_ , Gaius went and washed his face in the bathroom so he would be awake enough to drive home (rather than sleeping on his couch _again_ , he was too old for that) and then went to go through the facility, closing up shop on anything that had been left open during the day with skeleton night shift staff occasionally scooting through doors at the end of hallways or mopping floors his only human contact. As always, his last pass was through the hangar to be sure everything was shut down and locked up for the night, but when Gaius got there—

One of the spots was on.

There was a moment of assuming someone had left a light on, and then Gaius heard a curse that filtered down as a whisper-echo in the enormous room, and he could also hear quiet music playing, tinny, from somewhere up above. Sighing, he dragged his fingers through his hair and started up the stairs to the upper catwalk, trying not to drag his feet too much until he reached the mid-level landing and had to clamber up the ladder to the very top of the room, hauling himself up onto the top walk.

As Gaius approached, his footsteps echoing in the hangar, Alphinaud’s head popped out of the cockpit and he slung one arm tiredly over the hatch, gave a lazy wave of his wrench. There was engine grease on his cheekbone, and his hair was escaping its late-night ponytail in wisps, stuck to his face with sweat from the spot glaring on his back. “You should go home,” Alphinaud said, in lieu of a greeting. Gaius sighed, came over and leaned on the railing next to the top of the mech.

“That’s my line.”

Alphinaud flashed him a half-smile, and returned to what he was working on, crouched low in Cruise Chaser’s cockpit. Gaius watched, silently, for a few minutes as Alphinaud rattled around in the inner workings of the console. “Don’t you have class in the morning?” It was his understanding that doctoral programs for engineering usually wanted their students present and accounted for, not passed out after a night spent fixing mech-wiring.

“Don’t you have meetings in the morning?”

Gaius made a face. Touché.

“Besides,” Alphinaud tucked a loose strand of hair back behind one pointed ear, a smear of oil marking the shell from his fingers, “Now I know you’re awake, come help me.” He disentangled himself from underneath the console, unfolding his body from where he’d been pretzeled to fit underneath it. “I need to get the fiberglass shell up and I can’t lift it. I need someone strong to help.”

“This is why you’re supposed to do repairs when the rest of the support crew is here,” Gaius pointed out, unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up past his elbows so he could try and keep his good white meeting-shirt clean of grease. He stepped over the railing and down onto the mech, landing in the cockpit next to Alphinaud.

It was a tight squeeze, not meant for two full-grown men, but Alphinaud had disengaged the chair dock and pushed the pilot’s seat all the way back so that he had as much room as possible to work around the command console. That was the only reason they were able to fit in together, and Gaius had to lean around Alphinaud as he reached for the fiberglass plate that covered the top of the console. Alphinaud bent over, crouching down so he could unscrew the panel, his elbows brushing Gaius’ calves with how close they were pinned.

“Should be good,” he said, after a moment. Gaius grunted, lifting the heavy lid up off of the top of the console and holding it up as high as he could comfortably. Alphinaud quickly stood back up, the top of his head tucked just under Gaius’ chin, and he had a moment where he was _almost_ close enough for Gaius to press a kiss into his hair, but then he moved away, bending over the console.

From where he was standing, Gaius couldn’t see what Alphinaud was doing aside from the sound of him messing around in Cruise Chaser’s inner wiring. All he could do was stare at the younger man’s back and zone out. At first, he thought about if there were any errands he had to do on the way home (no) and then what he had to do in the morning (everything) but then he realized—

Alphinaud had never changed out of his pilot’s uniform.

It was late enough and he had been in it long enough that Alphinaud had half-unzipped the collar, and it hung just slightly open around his throat, just loose enough that at the angle he was bent over with his ponytail falling over his shoulder Gaius could see the top of the back of his neck, pale skin peeking over the dark blue collar of his uniform. As he worked, his shoulderblades shifted under the cloth, creating shadowed hollows just barely visible thanks to the glare from the spotlight overhead.

Gaius shifted, moving closer so that he could take the wight from the console cover in a slightly different position, getting the pressure off of his elbows. Close enough that he could feel the heat of Alphinaud’s body through his slacks, see the rise whenever he breathed and his chest expanded.

At this angle in particular, see the way the pilot’s suit outlined Alphinaud’s ass. Which was currently pressed into Gaius’ thigh.

He shifted abruptly and his ass slid along the press of Gaius’ inseam before pulling away, and he grunted, pressed his lips together into a firm line and took a deep, steady breath, stared up at the vaults of the ceiling. He thought about accounting ledgers, cold cups of shitty break room coffee left to maunder in styrofoam cups, wet socks, soggy french fries, tiny buttons he couldn’t get with his shaky hands.

But that just made him think of this morning, when he’d been swearing under his breath because he couldn’t manage to get the damn collar buttons of this shirt and Alphinaud had batted his hands away and done it himself, his hair falling loose across his forehead, his lips pursed and his eyes hazy before he’d had his first cup of coffee. And after he had done the buttons, he had dragged his hands down Gaius’ chest, flattened the starched cotton of his shirt so that it was hanging properly, and grabbed him by his tie—

Alphinaud leaned up on his toes, stretching for something at the far end of the underside of the console, his back a long, sharp curve. Gaius’ eyes caught on the streak of oil on Alphinaud’s one long ear, and he took in another deep, shuddering breath as Alphinaud’s ass bumped into his half-hard cock. He must have made some noise low in his chest because Alphinaud made a quiet, questioning noise in response. “Do you need me to stop so you can let that down?”

His shoulders were starting to ache a little, but. “No,” Gaius said, tried to not sound strangled. He did a fairly passable job. He’d give himself 40/60 on that one. “How much longer?”

Alphinaud hummed in lieu of reply, and kept doing whatever he was doing. Gaius stayed still and watched the long sweep of one cocked hand, holding a wrench, or the shift of one narrow thigh, tensing to make a reach for something. Between the glare of the spotlight and the relative claustrophobia of the cockpit, not to mention his own burgeoning erection, he could feel sweat starting to bead at his hairline and the base of his neck, especially given the stress of holding a solid hundred ponzes of weight up without letting it drop even a few inches.

Just when he could feel his arms beginning to tremble—either between his own arousal or the weight—Alphinaud pulled back. “Done,” he said, and Gaius immediately let out a sigh of relief and only barely didn’t drop the damn cover back down, shaking his arms to get the blood flowing back into them and wincing as he stretched. He rubbed the back of his left shoulder, rolling it in the socket, and Alphinaud turned as he did it, saw something on his face, apparently—pain, most likely.

“It’s fine,” Gaius told him. “Bad angle.”

There was a strand of hair stuck to Alphinaud’s lower lip. He’d bitten it red and swollen as he had been working.

Alphinaud reached up and grabbed Gaius’ tie. “Seems to me,” he said, after a moment, pulling Gaius closer and into that searing heat he’d just been feeling but not close enough to touch, “It was a good angle.”

“A _precisely calculated_ angle,” Gaius corrected, because he knew Alphinaud well enough to know an improper use of a PhD in engineering when he saw it. “There are support arms for a reason.” Alphinaud could just have easily engaged one of the long hooks that hung down from the ceiling and were attached to robot-arms for the sole purpose of assisting with mecha repairs.

“I could have,” Alphinaud agreed, grabbing Gaius by the top of his tie and leaning back into the console, pulling Gaius with him. “But why would I do that when you’re here?”

“Because I’m old and in fragile health.”

“Tall tales, unless you have something in your pants rather than being happy to see me.”

There wasn’t much room on the console to lean that wouldn’t put Gaius in reach of slapping a button that didn’t need to be slapped, so he contented himself with grabbing Alphinaud’s hips, trapped as they were in his skintight pilot armor, the boost the console gave Alphinaud as he sat on it the perfect height for his hipbones to be in reach. There wasn’t much room but that had _clearly_ been his intention to begin with, grinding his ass into Gaius’ inseam when he couldn’t even _fuck_ Alphinaud without taking the entire damn suit he was wearing off. He forgot all about chastising the younger man about engine grease and his good white shirt when Alphinaud dug his nails into Gaius’ pec through the cotton.

“Allow me,” Alphinaud said into his lips, about the point that Gaius had been not-so-surreptitiously grinding their erections together for the better part of ten minutes while they necked, “To thank you for your hard work.”

“Too bad you can’t thank me with your pert ass.”

Alphinaud bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, and Gaius wheezed into his mouth.

“I have something else in mind,” he murmured, and shoved on Gaius’ chest hard enough that he stumbled back, the backs of his knees hitting the pilot’s seat. He sat down by reflex, and it had been long enough since he’d been piloting that for a moment he was dazed, and then Alphinaud slid down off of the console. There was absolutely no room there except for him to kneel, and he _did,_ sinking to the ground and pressing up between Gaius’ spread knees. “You should wear a tie more often,” he said, dragging his hands up the line of Gaius’ inseam, undoing his belt without ever touching below. “All I could think all day was how good you look.” As he spoke, Alphinaud popped the top button of Gaius’ fly and dragged the zipper down. He didn’t break eye contact. “How _very_ bleached that shirt is against your skin.” Fuck, his head felt like it was full of cotton. “And your tie is just like a leash,” he murmured, grabbing the bottom of it and tugging Gaius forward.

He could do nothing but lean with it, a moan low in his chest. He gulped, the tightness of the starched collar pressing into his throat.

“You know that shirt is a size too small for you,” Alphinaud continued, still holding Gaius forward with his tie even as he pulled his erection free, stroking him the rest of the way to full hardness.

“Is it?” Gaius asked, too distracted to be sure it was true. He glanced down at himself.

“The buttons are stretched,” Alphinaud murmured. “They can barely keep on.”

Oh.

They were, weren’t they?

“Every time you wear it I have to keep from fucking you in the front hall before we ever even get out of the house.”

 _Fuck_.

Gaius lost the battle and made The Noise, the one that made Alphinaud’s eyes light up, hungry. He leaned up, dragging Gaius down to kiss him, choking him with his tie, before letting him go abruptly enough he almost slumped down in the seat. Alphinaud wrapped one hand around the base of his cock and leaned forward to dart one single lick over the tip of the head. At this angle, staring up from beneath his loose, scattered hair and flushed from arousal and exhaustion and exertion, Alphinaud’s blue eyes were uncanny-bright, and Gaius couldn’t look away, hardly breathing.

“If you want,” Alphinaud said, laving another lick over his weeping slit, “You can pull my hair, Sir.”

“Fuck,” Gaius replied, his voice cracking, and grabbed at the top of Alphinaud’s ponytail, fingers curling into the hair at the base of his neck. Alphinaud gave him this contented coeurl-with-the-cream smile, licked again, _scraped his front teeth_ over the head of Gaius’ dick. “ _Fuck_ ,” he said it a second time, his voice quavering. “Alphinaud—“

Alphinaud closed his mouth around the head of Gaius’ erection, and whatever he had been trying to say fizzled out completely.

The hangar was absolutely empty except for the two of them, so every noise Gaius made was amplified by the emptiness of the space, his broken groans echoing, his hisses refracted, his gasps multiplied. He could hear himself in the silence, punctured only by Alphinaud’s radio still going as background noise he hardly noticed, completely focused on the way Alphinaud looked. Down on his knees, still in uniform, with his hair a scattered wreck and his high cheekbones stained pink by his flush, he was positively obscene. With his mouth full of cock it _was_ obscene, Alphinaud’s hands flattened to the tops of Gaius’ thighs and his eyes fluttering as he focused on what he was doing, his jaw loosening every time he slid down until Gaius could feel the back of his throat. Every once in a while, when his hair spilled into his face again, he would absently tuck the strands back behind his ear—the ear with the grease-smear still along the top—and it was all Gaius could to do to pull him forward by the ponytail and keep from pinching that ear.

When Alphinaud pulled back to order him, “Fuck my throat, sir,” Gaius stopped paying attention to anything else altogether and did as he’d been told, dragging Alphinaud down by his hair, wrapping the length of the younger man’s ponytail around his hand and using that like a leash to pull him down by to enjoy the little, broken noise Alphinaud made every time, his eyelashes fluttering as Gaius facefucked him, the head of his cock pressed into Alphinaud’s throat, tight and hot.

He came almost embarrassingly fast, jerking Alphinaud down until his nose was buried into the cloth of Gaius’s slacks, gasping the younger man’s name and dragging on his hair so hard it had to hurt, his hips twitching up off of the pilot’s seat as he hilted himself in Alphinaud’s throat, his jaw slack and loose to allow it, swallowing around the head of Gaius’ cock to just make it last longer.

When Gaius let him go, slumped back to the chair out of breath and dazed, Alphinaud pulled back, licked the head of his cock free and tucked him, softening, back into his slacks. His lips were red and stretched and slick with spit and cum. “Come here,” Gaius muttered, dragging Alphinaud up onto his lap by his elbow, catching him as he clambered unsteadily to his feet and slid into his arms.

When Gaius tilted his head up for a kiss, he wasn’t expecting Alphinaud to press his own cum back into his mouth, but he dug his nails into Alphinaud’s hipbones, moaned into the kiss, swallowed it down, lightheaded. He sucked his own taste off of Alphinaud’s tongue, licked it from the roof of his mouth, bit it from his raw lips.

There was no way to get his fingers into Alphinaud’s ass, not at this angle and in his suit, so Gaius would just have to make do. He’d fingered the other man awake that morning anyway—nearly twenty-four hours earlier—in the slick of the lube and his own cum dripping back out from the night before, and Alphinaud had woken up shaking in orgasm in his arms, head rolled back on his shoulder and begging wordlessly. But Gaius _could_ press the heel of his palm into the head of Alphinaud’s erection, hard and visible in the tightness of his pilot’s suit, hot and no doubt leaking against the base of his stomach.

“Yes,” Alphinaud whined, rocking into the touch immediately, his head dropped down to press their temples together. Gaius dug the heel of his palm in harder, turned his hand so that he could jack Alphinaud off through the cloth of his uniform, got a broken, raw moan for it. “Yes, like that.” His thighs trembled, rocking himself into Gaius’ touch.

He was finally near enough that Gaius could do what he’d been thinking about since the moment he’d seen Alphinaud tonight: he dragged his tongue along the underside of the top of Alphinaud’s ear, along the length of the shell, right under where he’d marked it with grease. Then, thumb grinding into the head of Alphinaud’s cock, palm stroking his length, Gaius pulled him closer by his erection.

Alphinaud practically fell into his lap, rode the friction of his palm in ecstasy. “Don’t stop,” he ordered, grabbing at Gaius’ tie again, pulling him forward like that, “I’m so close—“

Gaius wrapped his other hand around Alphinaud’s throat, pale skin bared by his open collar, his fingers just barely fitting in beneath the loose cloth. He dug the meat of his thumb into the other man’s trachea, cut off his air, and Alphinaud writhed, his throat closing on a desperate, ragged noise. He was shaking, wheezing, and Gaius lifted his thigh just enough to dig it into Alphinaud’s balls—

And bit down on the shell of his ear. _Hard_. Right over the grease mark.

Alphinaud came immediately, practically thrumming in his arms, unable to cry out with Gaius’ hand around his throat. Gaius bit down a little harder on his ear, felt Alphinaud’s broken wail vibrate beneath the weight of his hand, soothed the sting of his teeth with a swipe of his tongue, and did it again, just slightly to the side, pressed harder on his balls, just short of hurting.

Alphinaud shook against him, and Gaius only pulled back when Alphinaud whimpered, fingers shaking against the underside of his wrist in overstimulation, let his throat go.

His hair was _everywhere_ , half of it pulled free from when Gaius had facefucked him, his lips swollen and the underside of his throat already red with a forming bruise. His eyes were hazy and still blown, and he rocked the head of his softening cock into Gaius’ hand so that he could feel Alphinaud’s issue, sticky in his suit.

He went willingly when Alphinaud grabbed him by the jaw, dragged him into a bruising kiss, pulled the younger man closer by his hipbones again, pressed one hand at the small of his back to keep him there. “You’re perfect,” he muttered, somewhere in there, only for Alphinaud to reply, “That should be my line,” laughing into their kisses.

Eventually, they just sat there together, Gaius drowsy post-coitus.

The hangar clock buzzed for three in the morning. He groaned, Alphinaud sprawled in his lap, face tucked into the side of his jaw, fingers playing with the top of his tie, slowly pulling it free.

“We were going to go home,” Gaius said, tiredly. Neither one of them bothered to move. His knees were starting to hurt, too tall for Alphinaud’s tiny fucking cockpit. Alphinaud was still pulling his tie free, and Gaius shifted slightly so that the other man could sprawl more comfortably in his lap, leaning into the curve of his arm. It was sweet. It would have been sweeter in a bed.

“I have a bunk for a reason,” Alphinaud muttered, and Gaius groaned.

 

 

Eventually they dragged themselves to the bunk, and Alphinaud left Gaius stripping as he went to go shower and change out of uniform, brushing his teeth blearily before he dug out clean boxers and a shirt to sleep in. When he came back to the bedroom, Gaius had left the light on overhead and was out cold, crammed into the inside of the bunk facedown in only his boxers.

He was snoring.

It was hard to call the man _cute_ , but sometimes, he managed a solid job at it.

Alphinaud shut off all the lights and slid into the outside of the bed—which was a twin, and barely wide or long enough to fit him, let alone six and some fulms of boyfriend in addition—but they managed. Somehow.

Even if Alphinaud did wake up three hours later to find his head crammed into Gaius’ armpit. They managed.

**Author's Note:**

> jonphaedrus.carrd.co


End file.
